My Demons
by Vitani
Summary: "They think I'm crazy, but they don't know the feeling. They're all around me, circling like vultures. They wanna break me and wash away my colors. Will I become my worst enemy? The enemy—" Introspective on Jaime, a one-shot to explore a little of his friendship with Bart; no pairing.


**A/N: **This is just something short I wrote for a friend at deviantART and his BluePulse Group's Halloween prompt. I realize it is way out of whack according to the proper timeline, but it was solely for fun. Based on the thought I had that the Starset song "My Demons" would be suitable for Jaime, should he ever feel angst-ridden about bringing down the world.

Cover art by me. :)

* * *

**My Demons  
**a _Young Justice_ fan fiction

"—and the police detective arrived on the scene too late. The building exploded in a Hellish blaze, destroying the blood-soaked walls within. After the fire, the only thing remaining of the three bodies was ash."

As Robin's quiet words faded into the night, a heavy silence settled around the semi-circle of teenagers. Jaime stared at the Boy Wonder with a dismal revulsion, feeling like he'd swallowed a brick. Finally he breathed, "Damn _esé_. That was... actually sad."

"I know, right?" Cassie said from her seat next to him, her eyes still full of a grief-stricken shock. "I thought you said it was a slasher story, but the bad guy was more sadistically methodical. I mean, shooting the girl in the back so she couldn't run, making her watch as he beat her boyfriend with a crowbar? That's twisted!"

"Isn't that what horror is?" Even though they were telling the proverbial ghost stories around an actual camp fire for amusement, Robin's demeanor was serious and heavy. As always, he wore sunglasses to mask his eyes so Jaime couldn't be certain, but at one point he sounded emotionally choked up. It made the story that much more grim. "The monster isn't always a slimy creature acting on nature."

"Where do you come up with that stuff?" Bart asked on the opposite side of the small flames.

He shrugged. "I read a lot of psychology reports." The lot knew he meant crime cases, not Psych studies at school.

A rather uneasy hush fell again, each one reliving his bloody and tragic tale, and Jaime wondered, for the umpteenth time, how he ever let Bart talk him into a Halloween evening in the woods. Sure, he now knew in the future Bart did not have the same festive celebrations, and the speedster was excited to dive headfirst into the creepy traditions of All Hallow's Eve. It was why he invited Bart to come with them when he took his little sister trick-or-treating.

He was surprised when he showed up as Impulse but introducing himself as Bart Allen. So proud of his superhero role, Jaime watched him all night ringing doorbells and waiting to be recognized by codename. A few people caught on from what few news clips had been made of him with the Flashes, but otherwise, the guise of Impulse had not fully taken off yet. However, Bart didn't let his lack of popularity dampen his spirits. Of course not. Bart had spirit and cheer on reserve, especially after a few pounds of candy.

Milagro had connected to the impulsive, loud Bart right away, and Jaime became the fatherly figure trailing after "his kids". In truth, he didn't feel very festive himself, refusing to dress up, even though Milagro forced a cape on him to compensate. After they had his sister home by curfew, Bart wanted to partake of another scary ritual: ghost stories in the woods, like in all those B-horror movies.

"Appropriate, right?" he'd said, not taking no for an answer. So they'd rented a cabin at a nearby reservation and invited whoever else on the Team wanted to come.

Now it was after midnight, and even though Halloween was technically over, they had a long night ahead on the woodlands. Jaime suspected the dry, small forest of El Paso, with its low-laying tree tops and scraggly underbrush, was not quite the picture-perfect "lost in the woods" environment from the films, but it was still isolated, quiet, and moody.

At such a late hour, the only ones left tempted to join them were Robin, Cassie, and Garfield. Robin was dressed up while still looking dressed down; he was a '50's Rockabilly rebel. And earning a smile from Jaime, Cassie came as Dorothy with Beast Boy a little green Toto. The night had started amiable and fun.

But now, drawing from his dwindling energy, his sullen mood was further darkened by the psycho stories. There was something devastating in the ambiance, a tragedy in the hidden details, and it was messing with his head.

Just like what Impulse had told him about his future self...

With an eager sniffle, Beast Boy leaped off Cassie's lap and took the handle of his pumpkin-shaped pail between his tiny teeth. The little dog tried to tip the contents, but failed. So he dragged it closer to Jaime's feet and sat up on his haunches, forefeet in the air in a classic canine beg.

"Should I take that as a hint, Gar?" The boy-in-dog-form whimpered in pleading affirmation. "Okay, okay, just get those puppy-dog eyes off me."

As he unwrapped a bit of candy Cassie said jokingly, "I don't think you're s'pose to give dogs chocolate."

"Or speedsters," Jaime reminded, noticing Bart never sat in the same place for too long. The other had momentarily vanished to come back with more branches to feed the fire, jibing around the makeshift stone hearth.

"Sorry," Bart said. "Just wanted the flames higher for my next tale." He threw his hands over the blaze like an alchemist setting a spell, giving them a wicked grin.

"Is this gonna be another 'it was a dark and stormy night' chiller?" Cassie ribbed, settling back for his rendition. "How about a proper ghost story this time?"

"Oh, it _is_ dark," Bart began in a melodramatic voice; Jaime expected to hear him erupt with a "muwahaha" laugh. Standing in front of them, he was a true showman with his hands raised as if in warning, cautioning them to be still and wary. "But there's no rainstorms in a world overwhelmed by nuclear holocaust, where the ghosts of _thousands_ dead follow the few living like shadows..."

Jaime couldn't swallow for the lump suddenly in his throat, nor could he keep his heart from skipping a beat, his chest tightening. It was just a made-up story, he knew that. Bart was just creating a fantasy horror on the fly, and already he was overloading it with cliché topics and undoubtedly Mary Sue characters.

But the image of a desecrated world—_his_ world, Earth—sprang into his mind in an instant. Because it was a picture already burned there, a dreadful prophecy he continued to envision and torture himself with. It would come true, he believed Bart...

"The hollow world, covered in an eternal night with ash like snow blanketing the atmosphere—all of it the breeding ground for_a monster_!"

Suddenly, Jaime stood, goaded to his feet by the personal demons within. He awkwardly looked at Bart even as Scarab stated: _Be still, the Impulse's words are false. There is no nuclear holocaust coming._

"I know—I-I mean, keep going," he managed to blurt out. "I'm, uh, I'm just gonna get my jacket from the cabin. This tablecloth-cape isn't cutting it."

Without waiting, he turned sharply on his heels and headed for the lodging. Behind him, he heard Cassie start to interject, "But it's not even that cold—"

Hearing her words made him shiver, feeling a dreadful weight on his shoulders and icy pin-pricks running up and down his spine. Despite his forbearance, all his willingness to be the Blue Beetle, he still felt Scarab's presence like a prodding intrusion sometimes. And after Bart told him the truth behind his time-travel, those times made him nervous.

Once inside the rented space, Jaime tore the bit of costume from around his neck. Of a sudden, as he stared at the red cloak, he sensed a bubble of resentment build. It was like Superman's cape, but Jaime wondered how long he could be a superhero.

_You should not run away, Jaime Reyes. It raises suspicions about us._

"Maybe I'm trying to run from you," he mumbled back.

"Why?"

Jaime gasped at the forward voice, spinning to find Bart in the doorway. He wilted when he saw the concerned expression on his friend's usually vibrant face. "I didn't mean you. I didn't know you followed me."

"Just wanted to make sure you were okay, _hermano_." Bart closed the door as he entered, knowing enough that Jaime wanted to keep some things private. "Are you?"

"Yeah," he said, a little too fast. "Yeah, fine. I'm just—" He dropped the temporary cape on the couch and picked up his hoodie, shaking it to imply he needed its warmth. "Unsettling, you know? Late night horror stories."

"Sure," Bart added, disbelief clear in his tone. "You're rattled. It's not like you don't battle real-life monsters every day on the job."

"Or when I look in the mirror..."

"What?"

Jaime turned away. He didn't want to ruin Bart's holiday, his first Halloween, but he knew he was the one friend who would understand. "I wake up a lot lately, sometimes every damn night. I feel like I'm being eaten alive from the inside out. It's just a nightmare, but... I don't feel like myself."

"But you are you." _You are yourself._

"That's just it," he explained, not sure if he were arguing with Bart or Scarab. "As myself, I know I'd never do those things you said. I know it! So what's the alternative? That I'm not me, that something changes me."

Turning back to Bart, Jaime shook his head. "You know how hard that is? To not know..."

Bart bit his lip, but Jaime could tell he was not holding back words. For once, his fast mouth was stalled. Not that he wanted a response, because there was nothing he could say to make the anxious fear go away.

"It's like there's a demon buried inside of me somewhere, waiting to come out. And I'm getting tired of walking on eggshells, anticipating, wondering if this is the moment. I'll try anything to keep that future from happening. Anything. But... but if I try everything—"

Jaime stared at the ground for awhile, Bart allowing him the time to reflect and brood. When he did brave to speak again, Jaime couldn't keep the sadness from his voice. "If the moment comes, and I don't do the right thing, I want to know there's someone there to stop me."

He held up his hands, staring at them like they were alien, like he held the Scarab before his eyes. He said softly, "Superheroes are supposed to save the world, but sometimes it's not the powers that save us. It's the sacrifice. Scarab won't let me, I know that—" Jaime's eyes fell across his wrists, his piercing gaze following the trail like a blade. "It fights me. It would never self-destruct."

_Never. There is no need. This host is more than sufficient, and we fight as one._

Jaime knew he did not have to explain any further his thoughts of suicide. He could sense Bart's dumbfounded appeal, his understanding horror. Lifting his burdened eyes to his friend, Jaime asked, "If I become the enemy, I want someone I can trust to take me out. At least give me that assurance, _por favor_?"

Bart stared at him with an unusual dark countenance, as if the thought had already crossed his mind. But his brows were knit together, his eyes glistening in the faint light unhappily. Whatever thoughts he had about the notion of killing him, and even receiving such permission, he did not like them.

When Scarab said, _This treaty is useless. In such a scenario, it would never succeed._ Jaime begged, "Promise?"

Although his expression never altered, Jaime was surprised by what Bart did next. He came over and wrapped his arms around him. Jaime felt himself give in to the hug, drained by the sudden show of support, even though he hoped it was a sort of farewell embrace.

But instead Bart said, "I am not promising that, _hermano_. I don't think I can now."

"If the world needs a savior—"

"Saviors fight. If this guy fights you, then you fight your demon right back." Putting his hands on Jaime's shoulders, Bart drew him away so he could look him directly in the eyes. "You're a superhero. That's what we do. But if _you_ need a savior, I promise to save you."

Jaime sighed deeply, not at all confident he could win that inner battle, but certain he would go down trying. It was comforting to hear how defensively Bart had his back, how much the other cared for him. The rest of the Team felt strongly on the matter, he knew that as well. And even though he also knew the Blue Beetle's power was assuredly more than a match for them, he had to trust their support.

Finally nodding, Jaime forced a grateful smile to his lips. "Okay. That's a better promise, _hermano_."

Bart clapped him on the back, his bright, carefree grin returning. "Of course it is. Us _hermanos_ stick together no matter what, right? Now let's get back to this Halloween party, before the others start thinking we're in here doing the nasty."

_Define: The Nasty._ Hearing Scarab's automatic response made the smile deepen. Feeling his spirits lifting, Jaime joked, "Ha, you wish!"

"Maybe I _do_ wish!"

Bart opened his arms to grab Jaime in a hug again, but this time Jaime playfully dipped under his reach. Smirking, he slung on his jacket and jumped for the door, halting the goofball, innuendo antics with the waft of fresh air and public view.

As the two friends walked back to the campsite, Bart already twitching for a new sugar rush, they were oblivious to the others—until they got close enough to notice only Cassie remained...

Jaime's heart thrummed into a race when he saw her kneeling on the ground before them, the fire in front of her illuminating the look of pure, raw fear on her face. Her eyes were huge, exposing the whites all around, and her mouth drooped, lips quivering. She clung to the leather jacket that Robin had been wearing as part of his costume.

"Cassie? What happened?" A cold sweat broke out on Jaime's skin, and he was abruptly grateful for the hoodie.

"Where's the others?" Bart asked, his voice dropped low in baffled apprehension.

As if finally seeing them, Cassie's mouth jerked as she tried to form words. Unable to do anything but utter a squeak of sound, she slowly—ever so painfully slow—lifted her hand and pointed at the two boys. She managed to mouth the sentence: _Behind you._

There was such a look about her, it made Jaime's body tense and his blood freeze. Did he dare to turn around? Did he want to know what happened to Robin? His mind already wove several sickening scenarios in one palpitated heart beat. Just then a branch cracked sharply. He was about to ask Scarab for advance preparations when—

The enormous, clawed hands clamped around them. Bart jumped out of his skin with a high-pitched cry, falling into Jaime and dragging them both to the ground. As they struck dirt, he heard the explosive roar of laughter.

And as he realized the color of the claws Scarab stated: _Be calm, Jaime Reyes. It is merely the Beast Boy in bear form. No defense tactics required._

Then Jaime couldn't help himself, bursting into laughter along with the rest. Robin dropped gracefully from the trees above and Cassie rose to her feet, dusting off her dress, both wildly giggling. Garfield shape-shifted back to his true self, rolling on the ground next to them and clutching his sides.

"You should have seen your faces as you fell!" Beast Boy wheezed.

Trying to hold down the chuckles and hiccups, Jaime buried his face in Bart's chest and patted him sympathetically. "_Esé_, you scream like a little girl!" The hysterics threatened to return, remembering that scream.

Although laughing, Bart complained, "C'mon, I was just playing around. I knew it was B.B.!"

"_Sure_ you did," Garfield teased.

"Yeah, yeah." He detangled himself from Jaime, sitting back on his heels, winded by all the mirth. "Dudes, that was totally crash, though!"

Standing and offering his hand to his friend, Jaime actually forgot all about the melancholy cloud hanging over him from before. He said with positive good-humor, "That's how you do Halloween right."

**The End.**


End file.
